


Circulation

by stopmopingstarthoping



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Library, Blood, Blood Drinking, F/F, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Magic-Users, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, floating Citadel, gratuitous glowing tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-08-02 20:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16312415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/stopmopingstarthoping
Summary: Newly-turned vampires Aranea and Ravus are stuck with each other, at least until they figure out how to navigate their new existence. Long-suffering witch librarians Crowe and Ignis have seen this before, but they haven't seen anything quite like these two.





	1. Chapter 1

Ravus peered at the sign over the door where ornately flourished lettering announced “Athenaeum Arcana,” and narrowed his eyes at Aranea dubiously. The faint blue light emitting from the columns flanking the door highlighted the difference between his eyes. The violet one was still somewhat red-rimmed and bloodshot, contrasting with the clear transparency of the blue. He looked at the sparkling letters, then back at Aranea again. “This is a library.”

“Powers of observation intact, I see. Well done.” Aranea didn’t look up at Ravus. She was busy digging through her bag for the notebook and pen she’d brought. She pulled out a variety of items, holding a glove in her teeth, before realizing she’d stuck the pen through her silver ponytail. She pulled it out and stuffed the glove back in the bag, then shouldered it again. She tapped the pen against the notebook, studying the sign next to the door and nodding with satisfaction.

“Seriously? We’re -  _this_ \- and you want to do  _research_?” He motioned back and forth between, the two of them with exasperation, and he swiped long, snowy strands out of his face. He was an impressive presence in both height and breadth, but she didn’t seem to notice that he towered over her as she scowled up at him.

“Well, we don’t have a lot of great fucking options right now, do we? Trial and error’s sure not working.” She shot a guilty glance toward at the sling that cradled his arm. “We’re just lucky they have evening hours here.”

“Yes, this whole experience has been nothing but luck.” Ravus pulled his lips back from his teeth just enough to flash them at Aranea.

The look she shot him this time was a clear warning. “I swear, you’re worse at this than you were at being human. And that’s saying a lot.” Aranea squared her shoulders and yanked open one thick door, striding through without holding it for him. Ravus angled his body at the last moment to avoid being squashed.

Aranea was impressed by the rich wood structure within. Tall windows lined the walls, revealing the midnight blue of the twilight sky outside. Each window was separated by a column, which upon closer examination was a massive shelf holding rows of books on each side, with the obligatory quaint little ladder for reaching higher shelves. A carved railing surrounded a shorter second level, otherwise open to the room below. Smaller half-moon windows capped the rectangular panes below in a pleasing pattern, and the stacks, though shorter, were in the same places on the second level as on the first. Aranea looked, expecting to squint, but saw every detail of the old-looking scrolls on the second floor. She shook her head. This was still really weird sometimes, to say the least.

In the rear left corner sat a small, nondescript rectangular wooden counter marked “Reference Desk.”  A small, alert, dark-haired woman sat, checking items off a list with a long, feathery pen. Behind her, a man with glasses pushed a metal cart filled with leather-bound books and more of those time-worn scrolls. He was meticulously reorganizing, moving all the scrolls to a second, empty cart beside him. Aranea blinked twice when it looked like a scroll had left his grasp and simply sailed into place on top of the cart. She was tired, and it had been a long week, and she was seeing things. That was more probable than a witch in the employ of the Lucian government, Aranea thought. She took a deep breath, and walked forward.

Crowe watched the two of them come in out of the corner of her eye, grinning as the tall man barely cleared the door.  She waited for them to approach before looking up, and gave the woman a friendly smile when she walked up alone. “Welcome, I’m Crowe. Can I help you?”

“I’m - Aranea. I guess I need an account? Or something?  I need to do research. It’s for … school. I’m a student,” the silver-haired woman said. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

The awkward and obvious lie made Crowe glance at Aranea quizzically, but she just shrugged and said, “You can look at whatever you’d like here, without registering for a card. Most of what we have can’t be checked out anyway.” Any true student would have known that, but as Aranea drew closer, Crowe noticed the telltale transparent sheen of her fingernails and the shifting color of her eyes, from grey to green and back again, too quickly. The glow of the lamps caught on her porcelain skin and enhanced its preternatural luminescence, and Crowe caught herself staring. She cleared her throat.

“What are you looking to research? I can help you with the terminal since it’s your first time,” Crowe offered, leading Aranea over to the search station.

Aranea followed, but shifted from foot to foot and looked back toward the door. “That’s uh - private. I mean, classified. I mean, the research I’m doing at the uh, the university isn’t final so I have to keep it … quiet? But thank you.” She swiped a long lock of shimmering hair behind her shoulder and looked at Crowe with real gratitude.

Crowe nodded and typed with practiced ease on the keyboard in front of the terminal. “Well, let’s just use some sample terms then. Here, look at this search.” The categories at the top of the screen read: Non-Human Creatures> Supernatural> Humanoid. “So, this will take you to Fae, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, and you can see the rest. Just click back if you want to go up a category.” Crowe gave Aranea a tentative smile.

Aranea shot Crowe an embarrassed, slightly angry look in return. “Okay, just tell me you figured it out. Don’t be cute,” she hissed. Her eyes flicked toward the door again, almost imperceptibly.

“Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.” Crowe made her voice as soft and soothing as possible. “I might even have some secrets of my own.” She reached up to hit the print button on the screen and deliberately let her sleeve fall away from her forearm, revealing the intricate marks on her skin. She even allowed them to glow faintly, gaining her a disapproving bespectacled glance from behind the reference desk.

Aranea met her gaze with the barest flicker of trust, eyes swirling again to a green that was nearly olive. She grabbed the printout and hustled away to grab the appropriate books off the shelf. Crowe strode noiselessly back across the room and returned to her perch on the stool behind the reference desk, pulling her quill from her mass of pinned-up brown hair and putting on a pair of reading glasses.

“Newly turned, I take it?” Ignis mused without looking up from the cart he was rearranging. He was quiet, but they both knew they could be overheard if the other two chose to focus on them.

“Yep, seems like it.” Crowe leaned back and studied Aranea as she flipped open the first book and scanned it  fast - too fast, Crowe frowned. She’d have to learn to disguise that, or get discovered pretty quickly.

“And that one lounging in the corner as well, I believe.” Crowe’s eyes followed Ignis’ nod toward the doorway, where a tall, sullen man, with a disheveled mass of even paler hair than Aranea’s and one arm in a sling, leaned gracefully but nervously.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about him.” Crowe blushed slightly.

“I’m not surprised.” Ignis sailed past her with an armload of reshelving materials, one eyebrow raised.

“Shut up, Scientia.” Crowe rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to punch him on the arm, more for the sake of the delicate Ancient Lucian scrolls than anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

Ignis set down the stack of books and sat across the table from the man. He was struck by his height - even sitting down, he was tall, and Ignis did not consider himself short.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name.” This close, Ignis could tell - the sheen to his hair, the inhuman grace of his movements.

“Ravus Nox Fleuret.” The musical tones of his voice would have confirmed it, if Ignis had still had any doubts. Ravus smiled faintly and offered his good hand to Ignis to shake without rising from his chair.

“Ignis Scientia. Pleased.”  Ravus’ hand was - surprisingly warm. That certainly wasn’t normal, and Ignis’ eyes flicked toward their joined fingers briefly. He found himself standing slightly to slide around the table. Ignis opened one of the books Ravus had requested and pointed to some of the more useful passages.

Ignis looked at the vampire - at Ravus - again, and noticed the breadth of his chest, the distinctive hues of his eyes. He felt his head spin for a brief moment and blinked. The corners of his mouth quirked in realization.

 _Glamour. Of course_. He’d been dazzled by it, and could still feel the thump of his heartbeat. A reasonable and predictable side effect. Completely unsurprising.

Crowe came by and slid another large tome off the stack she carried and onto their table.

“Everything ok over here?” She picked up the rest of the books again and blew a strand of hair out of her face.

Ignis smiled gratefully. “Yes, thank you for locating that one.”

She nodded and walked away, leaving Ignis to explain the rest of the materials. He managed to get through the conversation professionally enough, but Ignis did breathe a sigh of relief when Ravus thanked him and picked up a book to begin reading. Ignis excused himself politely and returned to the reference desk.

Crowe sat at her usual perch, reviewing and checking in some new materials using her favorite dark green quill pen.

Ignis shook his head to clear it. “I know they’re quite new, but goodness, that one’s glamour is powerful.” He gave a little self-deprecating smile.

Crowe turned. “Glamour?” She looked back at Ravus. “I was standing right behind him and I didn’t sense anything. Not even a little bit.”

“Are - Are you sure?” Ignis’ eyes widened, and a flush crept across his cheeks.

Crowe cackled. “Yep. Looks like you got it confused with good old-fashioned - “

Ignis shot Crowe a deadly glare, and she covered another laugh with a cough, choosing a different word.

“Uh - charisma.” She snorted.

Ignis had engrossed himself in the nearest checklist, running his fingertip down it and avoiding her eyes. “Indeed,” he mused, without looking up. Pink still dusted the tops of his cheekbones.

Crowe reached out to tickle him with the feathered end of her quill, and he swatted her and scowled.

Aranea and Ravus pored over the materials that Ignis and Crowe had retrieved for them, their heads close together. Silvery strands bent close to snowy white ones as they appeared to argue about something.

Crowe stopped staring for a moment to look behind her and catch Ignis doing the same. He spotted her and looked away quickly, and they both smirked.

Aranea stacked up what few materials they’d be allowed to take home, and prepared to take them to the desk. That cute brunette librarian, Crowe, had talked her into getting a library card - fortunately, the Lucis ID database hadn’t yet registered the fact that she was dead. Well, undead.  Whatever.

“Can you finish taking notes on this stuff? I’ll be right back.”

Subdued for once, likely overwhelmed with information, Ravus nodded. He continued scribbling, awkwardly, and frowned a little at his left arm as though he would have liked to use it to steady the page in front of him, but he managed.

Aranea returned from the desk and hitched her overstuffed bag back up onto her shoulder. She’d already fished out her keys and they jingled lightly in her hand as she gestured at Ravus.

“Let’s go. My place isn’t far from here.” When he bristled, she sighed. “Oh come on, don't be your usual sullen-ass loner self for one night. Please? There’s a lot here, and we both need to know it."

He sighed and got up. “Fine.”

* * *

 

Aranea flopped her bag onto the table, taking the books and papers out and stacking them as neatly as she could. Her hands were shaking, though she tried to conceal it.  She was sure Ravus was feeling no better, but based on what she’d read, he’d survive another few days. And there was no easy way to tell him he was currently a liability.

“I'll be back in an hour.”

His head darted up, and she looked at his injured arm pointedly.

“Tomorrow. I promise.” She answered his unasked question. “For now, stay here and rest. There's food in the fridge if - do we still do that, do you think? I didn’t see anything about that when we were reading.”

Ravus shrugged noncommittally and shook his head. He was uncharacteristically dispirited, and she didn’t question it.

She closed the door behind her, and breathed in a deep breath of cool night air. Instincts she didn’t know she had kicked in, and she darted down the stairs into the city. The full moon lit the surfaces of the concrete more than she expected.  This would be easy.

She stalked the first passerby she spotted; a tall man who probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds. Men were easier; they walked without looking around. They hadn’t been out to hunt very many times yet, but she knew this already.

Aranea tensed, ready to leap out of the shadows, anticipating her next move. She completely failed to see the blur to her left, and she was tackled with what sounded like a growl. It nearly knocked the wind out of her, and her hands darted up to grab at a throat. Whatever it was was large and impossibly strong.

It felt - animal-like. She was sure teeth had snapped, but at that moment her vision blurred and she shook her head. When she opened her eyes again, she looked up into a familiar face.

“Nyx? The fuck?” He seemed - hairier than she remembered. And those were some formidable teeth.

He made a threatening noise low in his throat. “Aranea.”

She rolled. “Get off. You know I’m not trouble. For you, anyway.” He placed a hand on the center of her chest, eyed her for a moment, then nodded silently, retreating to sit on the pavement. He sat on his heels, not really attempting to hide his slightly unnatural movements.

“Fucking Astrals, is no one in this town just a run-of-the-mill human anymore?”

“Looks like there are a few things I didn't know about you, too.” Nyx wiped his chin and looked at her evenly.

Damn, she really needed to get better about hiding this.

“It's new. This.” She gestured at herself awkwardly.

“Explains why you're not smart enough to keep it to Reaper’s Alley like the rest of them.”

Aranea knew the segment of the city he meant. More than just one alley, it was a menacing and tenebrous area, though she’d always just associated it with seedy bars and lowlifes. She hadn’t expected it to be so - literal.

She glared at him. “Yeah, thanks for the tip.”

“We can't keep the streets safe but we can at least keep them in order.” He jerked his head. “Out. Before I have to call in the rest of the Glaive.” He snarled the words at her and walked off. His gait was - odd.  Aranea watched him lope away, and she pondered it.

“And be careful about hunting under a full moon.” He tossed the words over his shoulder, braided hair flying, and she rolled her eyes.

Aranea felt pretty godsdamned invulnerable, even after a flying tackle from a glorified guard dog. She took off toward Reaper’s Alley at an easy jog, grinning in anticipation.

* * *

When Aranea arrived back at her apartment, Ravus was sitting in the dark with a glass of wine.

“You know artificial lights won't hurt you, right?” Her tone was teasing as she flipped the couple of deadbolts on the door.  She pondered how they were both more and less necessary than they had been.

“Yes. I don't find that I need them.” Ravus closed the book he'd been reading and looked up at her.

Curious, Aranea found a book of matches and lit one of the candles sitting on her side table. She felt like the small flame threw the room into almost-daylight, and she looked at Ravus with understanding dawning in her eyes.  Watching the candle with interest, she observed that this tiny fire, despite what she’d read, didn’t appear to be a problem. Good to know.

“So.” She stood in front of him and took a deep breath. “I think we've figured out two things.” She started to pace, her body humming with blood and energy.

He looked up without answering.

“One, there doesn't seem to be any way to undo this.”

A nod, resigned.

“Two, I figured out how to fix your arm.” She stopped, and turned toward Ravus, looking at him earnestly.

Ravus shook his head at that. He grasped his wineglass and walked to the window overlooking the balcony and the city below, still shaded in shadow. “No. I won't ask you to do that.”

“We don't _know_ anyone else, Ravus.”

He took a deep sip and then stared into the glass. “No. Well, except for -”

Aranea let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah, he’s not doing us any favors, that’s for sure. Come on.” She sat on the couch and motioned to him. “No time like the present.” She flashed what she knew was still a slightly bloodstained grin at him, and watched his eyes flicker with interest.

Ravus sighed, and Aranea watched his gaze dart over to her, then away. His eyebrows knit together more than usual, until something seemed to break. Almost in one motion, he strode forcefully back into the room, set down his glass, and sat down at the other end of the couch.

The slight tremor in his hands intensified, and Aranea saw a predatory flicker in his gaze. She wondered idly if this would, in fact, work and if his violet iris would return to blue after it was done. His breathing sped up, and she tilted her head and watched him.

Ravus swallowed, and reached out for her hand. She turned over her wrist and met his eyes with a steady look of her own. They silently acknowledged that the carotid artery would be too… intimate. The bluish-green vein on the inside of Aranea's wrist contrasted nicely against her skin, standing out more given the even paler complexion she'd acquired.

He looked at her again, questioning, and she gave him the slightest nod. He slid closer to her, cradling her arm with his uninjured one, and bent his head. Ravus' lips were shockingly cold against the warm, thin skin of her wrist, and Aranea's lips parted in a short, quick breath.

Aranea prepared herself for a prick, for pain, but Ravus’ fangs slid past her skin, so sharp she barely noticed until she felt the strong pull of his mouth against her arm. She opened her eyes, briefly, and he met her gaze.

She’d expected to see gratitude, sheepishness, shame - but his expression carried none of that. It was soothing and menacing at once; two-toned hues stared at her out from beneath a stray white strand.

She felt like _prey_.

Rebellion surged up then. Even before this whole disaster, Aranea Highwind had always been the hunter, not the hunted. Her eyes narrowed just barely at him, and the small cuts at her wrist began to sting. The feeling started to creep up her arm, and she winced, closing her eyes for a moment. Her heart thudded, too hard, in her chest. She willed it to slow, fought the urge to wrench from his grasp.

Ravus watched, sensing when she wanted to pull away, and suddenly she felt fingertips caressing her bare arm. They tingled, and her eyes opened again to meet his. Their color swirled, darkening to indigo, to amaranth. She knew what he was doing, or trying to do, and while she appreciated it, she scoffed internally. _Wholly unnecessary in this situation_.

Aranea rolled her eyes derisively - she _did_. Or she thought she had. But that would have involved breaking the steady gaze holding hers, and she hadn’t done that. A gradual rush of elation skimmed beneath her skin, and she couldn’t look away.

And then she didn’t want to. Languid slack seeped into her limbs, and she didn’t resist when Ravus lifted his mouth for a moment to pull her into his lap, pillowing her head on his thighs. He stared down at her again, and her head spun and buzzed. Ravus’ gaze darted to the thin trickle of blood slowly rolling its way down her arm, and she saw his expression sharpen and intensify. She stretched up to meet him willingly; Ravus traced his tongue along the trails of blood before settling back onto the small puncture wounds he’d made. The sensation made Aranea’s eyes roll closed, as a low hum vibrated against the skin of her wrist.

It was glorious, the feeling of being taken, swept under, carried away. No wonder her victims made such sweet noises once they finally succumbed to her. She floated, blissful, feeling farther and farther away. She began to experience thoughts and feelings as though she were watching an internal movie - she felt them like she’d dreamed them the night before.

 _Defeat, shame, rage, frustration, loneliness._ And then the searing pain she’d experienced right after they were turned. The pointed claws of bloodlust, carving their way through every vein in her body. It made her eyes fly open and when she met Ravus’ gaze again, he startled.

These weren’t her emotions, she realized. _What had_ he _seen?_

Seeming to realize the same, Ravus pulled back and licked her wrist closed carefully. He helped her sit up and placed her arm gently in her own lap.

Suddenly awkward, Ravus flexed the fingers of his injured arm and looked at them, wondering. He turned back to her and cleared his throat.

“Thanks seem - insufficient. I feel - You -” He fumbled for words. Aranea could see the bright flush to his skin already.

She cut him off. “S’fine,” she said, too brightly. “You’d do the same for me.” Aranea slapped hands on her knees and stood up quickly. The room spun for a moment, but she gritted her teeth and made every effort not to show it.

“Sun’s coming up. You can have the couch.” She gave him what she hoped was a nonchalant wave and headed for her bedroom, a little unsteadily. Her heart was still pounding in her ears.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and Gladiolus intercept three mysterious strangers who threaten their home.

Lamplight fell pale and silvery on the wet surface of the streets. Gladiolus angled his body behind the slighter form in front of him. He swept his gaze up and down the windows in the packed-together townhouses of downtown and glared into crevices between buildings where someone might hide. It was unusual for the Fae Prince to be traveling on foot at night, and even more unusual for the two of them to be so separated from the rest of the Court. At the last minute, the King and his Immortal Companion had decided that the shimmering Citadel at the city’s center must not be left empty of Lucian blood. Gladiolus’ father, Clarus, had ordered him to turn around and escort Noctis back through Insomnia, away from the Court’s progress to Tenebrae.

The two of them were antsy, feeling the lack of the Court’s magic almost immediately upon separation. The Crystal, lodged in the heart of the Citadel, would renew them quickly upon their arrival. But until then, they could feel the painful lack of the Court’s presence in their very veins. It burned and stung, a constant reminder of the need for community. Gladiolus was on edge, and Noctis was sullen.

They walked quickly; night had fallen, and they were both well aware of the dangers, human and otherwise, that lingered in the dim streets and narrow alleys. This part of Insomnia was unavoidable if they were to head directly back, but it filled them with apprehension. By daylight, Fae were free to move about the streets undisturbed. Greeted kindly, even, with a hint of gratitude for their contributions to keeping the city running.

But at night? They were out of place here, and everyone knew it.

In one doorway, a brash-looking redheaded man lounged and glared at them. Rather than discreetly hiding the twisted, scrolling mark on his forearm, he had his sleeves rolled up to display it - a sign they were in a rough part of town. He picked his teeth and spat as they passed. When Gladiolus glowered and moved toward him, he rolled his eyes, slipped inside the door, and slammed it ostentatiously.

Noctis put his hand on Gladiolus’ forearm. “Not worth it, Gladio.”

An annoyed grunt in response; then, “Let’s just focus on getting back.” He did, however, briefly brush calloused fingers over the fine-boned hand at his elbow. 

Their steps clumped awkwardly along the hard surface of the street. For a journey of this distance, flying would normally be their preferred mode of transportation. But their separation from the Court had waned their abilities as it was; flight was unwise at best, impossible at worst. Night grew close, and darkness crept its way up from the riverbank. A thick haze of clouds concealed both moon and stars, and Noctis shivered.

As soon as Noctis hugged his own arms to himself, there was Gladio, divesting himself of his overcoat to attend to him. It was strange, this place they shared between duty and devotion, but Noctis wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Don’t you ever get cold?” Noctis shot a sheepish grin up to his chestnut-haired companion. Gladio just shrugged his shoulders, and Noctis could see the lines of the elaborate tattoo that shimmered from blue to deep purple under his shirtsleeves.

A fond smile greeted his gaze. “Not really.”

He wasn’t lying; Noctis had shared enough nights next to the massive man to know he was essentially a furnace. Remarkably large for a Fae, but then the Amicitia line always had been. It was one of the reasons that Gladiolus was the Fae Vindex - or at least his father Clarus’ successor. Gladiolus protected Noctis, as Clarus protected Regis. Someday, Noctis would rule as the Fae King, once his own father Regis passed into the Circle of Shadows.

 _Morbid thoughts for a stroll through town_. Noctis shook his head and focused on the task at hand. Despite the lack of a warm welcome from the citizenry, these were still his countrymen, and he and Gladiolus had more than enough energy between them, even in their weakened state, to defend themselves against any common witch, vampire, or werewolf who might come calling. Humans - well, they didn’t warrant even a flicker of concern, really.

He walked faster; Gladiolus strode carefully behind him, hand on Percarus in case it was needed. The long, curved blade responded to his grip and he smiled a little in response. The slight hum Percarus emitted caused a woman who appeared to be staggering home from a bar to stop and snap her gaze to him. She had clearly been pretending to be intoxicated, and the wide blood-red smile she shot Gladiolus made his spine tingle with apprehension. Long, curved canines let him know that the beautiful pale-skinned brunette was no ordinary woman.

He growled low. “Let’s go. Not far now.”

Noctis gave him a sharp nod, and they hurried through the streets.

The blue glow of the Citadel soon bathed them both, and both Noctis and Gladiolus were grateful to see its light cascading down onto the streets below. The short flight up to its welcoming staircase was well within their capabilities at this point, especially given the additional boost of life-force that close proximity to the Crystal would provide. Their eyes focused in on the end point - and that was their mistake.

Three of them, lurking in the shadows. The smallest was quick and fierce-looking. Glamoured, but clearly a werewolf. Blond hair fell over one eye as he tried and failed to talk over the other two. A thick-featured, dark-haired man spoke in rough tones, but flinched and was silent when the tallest man spoke, in languid, mocking tones. Noctis and Gladiolus came to a halt at the sight of the three of them. The raw power rolling off the tall one was palpable, and borderline terrifying. Wine-colored curls cascaded over his ruffled collar as he snapped his fingers at the other two to make a point. The blond lowered his head and growled, and the dark-haired man rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, but remained quiet.

Gladiolus pulled Noctis quickly around the side of a building and out of sight. They exchanged a wordless glance, and both used _prolato_ to be able to hear what the men were talking about.

Azure eyes widened in shock, meeting whiskey ones and then narrowing in defiance.

“The stupid fools have left it unattended. It will be a walk in the park. Perhaps a skeleton staff, but between the three of us …” He laughed, a rich, evil sound with a hint of anticipation behind it.

A lower, gruff voice responded. “It has been a while since you fed anyway, has it not?”

Another laugh, this one sardonic. “When you’ve been alive as long as I have, missing a meal here and there makes no difference at all. I do appreciate your concern.”

“Enough chitchat - let’s move!” The higher voice carried insistently on the wind.

“Calm yourself, pup. I’m not inclined to have my careful plans upended by an impetuous misstep.”

Noctis barely caught the quietest growl - werewolves really hated the canine references, he knew, but the elder Fae didn’t seem to care, really.

But _was_ he Fae? The power had been unmistakable - he’d felt it, and felt it still even now, swirling around him, singing to his own in a distinct but unsettling harmony. Fortunately the two of them were well out of range for the elder to have detected them absent an intentional use of an amplification spell.

But the reference to feeding? On a human? That sounded like a vampire. _Who is this, and what is he?_

Noctis had no time to ponder it any further, because the three strangers were already discussing how to break into the Citadel. He looked up at Gladiolus again. The few loyal humans and elderly Fae attending to the Citadel were insufficient as a defense force. They couldn’t let them get close. Two on three? Not usually a problem, particularly for the two of them. Noctis’ thought in this regard was simply practical, not cocky. He’d been raised to wield all of the weapons of the Fae with skill, his direct connection to the Lucis Caelum magic through the blood of his ancestors an effective if not always a welcome power. He’d been trained by one of the few who could best him - an Amicitia.

So it wasn’t saying too much that between them, they could generally take on whatever came their way. Still, the look Gladiolus had shot him as the elder Fae had talked told Noctis that Gladiolus also had a certain amount of - apprehension, at least. Not fear. At least not any they'd admit. More like a healthy skepticism.

Grateful that they were so in tune without speaking, Noctis glanced and nodded at the amber gaze holding his own. They’d follow as long as they could, maybe picking off one of them if the three didn’t stay close together. When they saw their moment, well before any of them could make the ascent to the Citadel, they would strike. Gladio’s hand teased at Percarus again, and Noctis’ own fingertips glittered with the faintest hint of blue-sheened magic.

They slid from their hiding place to find the witch, the werewolf, and - whatever he was - entirely too far ahead of them. They should have only been able to travel a short distance in that time, but they were on the cusp of the Citadel itself. An angry glare sparked from Noctis’ eyes, and he shot ahead, confident that Gladiolus would stay with him.

The sound of their flight attracted the attention of the threesome, and they sped up, launching themselves into the path directly up to the Citadel. Noctis let out a wordless yell at this threat to their home, and tackled the ringleader in a bright blue lightning bolt.

Momentum carried them directly into the entry room, and Gladiolus was mere seconds behind. The small werewolf engaged with him almost instantly, and they rolled in a tangle on the floor. The enigmatic russet-haired man flung out an arm and Noctis shot back, slammed against the wall, and slid down.

“Noct! Stay with me!” Gladiolus’ voice boomed as he shook off the snarling blond and engaged the dark-haired witch, sword screeching against the static of spell armor. His mouth set in determination as Noctis rolled to all fours and coughed. The tall mysterious man scoffed with his arms folded, just watching the other four. Noctis panicked when he saw blood streaming from an open slash down the left side of Gladiolus’ face, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Gladiolus blink his left eye open and look directly at him, albeit through red-rimmed lids. The surprise in those russet-brown eyes had given way to a furious battle fever, and Noctis felt his own mouth set in a hard line. He looked away from the marred face of his beloved and dove back into the fray.

Noctis felt the strain of calling directly on the Crystal, but he pushed the effort down in a yell as he flew more than ran toward the bulky witch. Noctis broke through several of the green glowing sigils in the air in front of him and struck hard. He was unable to break through the witch’s armor, but he felt the threads of it bend and squeal, nearly snapping. Noctis took two steps back and leveled a scornful gaze at the witch. How dare he, in Noctis’ own home? He flung one arm out and summoned several of the Fae Armorum. The weapons materialized and Noctis could hear their music. With a flick of one hand, he sent his weapons hurtling toward the witch - driven all the more quickly by Noctis’ own personal energy - defiance, hostility, and outrage. They felled the witch, and Noctis didn’t think he’d killed him, but he also didn’t take an extra moment to care.

Noctis saw the tiny werewolf, shaken clear of all his glamour by this point. Gladio’s blood still lingered on his claws, and he slunk around as the witch slumped to the floor. Noctis flung himself sideways to intercept him, feeling a grim satisfaction as his blade crunched against bone and sinew. The tall stranger sauntered over toward their scrapping, laughing quietly to himself.

“Why are you here?” Noctis stood up and ground the words out. The man simply chuckled again and lashed out at Noctis with a swirl of magic - it looked like his own but darker, twisted.

At the last moment, Gladiolus stepped in front of Noctis, absorbing the force of the blast. Percarus’ wide, flat blade diffused the swirls of purplish-black smoke, and the sword’s song strained and shook.  Gladiolus took one painful step, then two, toward the red-haired man.

Suddenly, the twist of warped energy evaporated, and the stranger took several quick steps forward. He gazed at Gladiolus’ face hungrily, and dodged easily to grasp his chin. Gladiolus tried without success to wrench free, and shuddered when he saw the man's wide smile.

He murmured quietly, almost too quietly for Noctis to hear, “Well, I suppose it _has_ been a while.”

“Gladio!” Noctis yelled as he leapt over the unconscious body of the witch and kicked out at the werewolf. By the Six, that little blond one was persistent and seemed to have unlimited stamina. The one-two of the flat of Noctis’ boot and a stab with Fuscina’s three prongs, though, and he fell back with a howl. Noctis flicked a gaze over to where Gladiolus should have been, but couldn’t see him. The damned witch, at least, seemed to stay where he’d felled him, but the accursed werewolf.

He just _kept coming._ Noctis flicked his focus between parrying the formidable teeth and claws, and looking around the room for Gladiolus. _Where is he?_ Noctis heard fabric rip at his back and whirled, but too late to avoid taking a nasty blow. The werewolf jumped over him, which was lucky, because Noctis looked up, and something caught his eye.

Far up, too far. Near the ceiling of this round entry room. He stared for a moment, and another snarl distracted him. Noctis summoned _aboloeo_ , and flung it hard. “Enough!” he bellowed, and the werewolf was still.

Heart thumping in his throat, Noctis darted up to where the stranger had pinned Gladiolus. He went cold as he saw the stranger lift his mouth from Gladiolus’ neck, his grin dripping crimson.

"No!" Noctis’ eyes flashed a bluer red as his shout boomed at the stranger, his words amplified from the vast power he drew from the Crystal in that instant. It felt like cold fire in his veins, but Noctis barely noticed.

Slipping past Noctis’ attempt to attack him, the stranger lifted both hands in an innocent gesture and shrugged.

And let Gladiolus’ limp body fall twenty feet to the floor.

Noctis barely caught him, his crystalline fury shattered as they hit the floor together. Gone was the blue-violet of his anger, replaced by a soft, glowing green that sparkled and wound around Gladiolus’ body, the very tendrils themselves hesitant, uncertain which areas needed the most help.

He looked dead, and the pallor to his usually tawny skin was terrifying. Noctis could only take solace in the repeated, ragged breaths that Gladiolus pulled in, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Noctis brushed damp umber strands back from Gladio’s forehead, and Noctis’ own eyes searched frantically over his body.  His fingers spread in distress, and his hands made halting, unsure movements.

“What have you done?” The words croaked out around a hoarse sob.

“Well, I should think that’s obvious.”

The discordant clash of the stranger’s weird magic crept up Noctis’ spine again, and he whirled around.

“If you want to save him, dear boy, you’ll have to feed him.” A maniacal grin greeted Noctis, entirely too close to his face, and topaz eyes took on a glowing cast before the stranger swept away.  He made a vague gesture at the werewolf, who limped but easily slung the bulk of the unconscious witch over his shoulder. He scampered to follow, and they disappeared in a coil of absonant obsidian.

Noctis felt more than heard the running steps of Jared and the other palace staff clattering over the marble floors. His father and Cor would have sensed the use of the Armorum and also Noctis’ strong siphon of energy from the Crystal, and they would be aware something had happened. They’d undoubtedly send a squadron back immediately, and while Noctis welcomed the assistance, he was also terrified. He bit back another sob as he shot green sparks to smooth over the telltale marks on Gladiolus’ neck.

If there was to be any saving Gladio, no one could know.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis deals with the aftermath of the fight in the Citadel, and appeals to Ignis and Crowe for help. Regular old boring human Prompto stumbles across the whole situation, and Ravus and Aranea make plans for a journey.

Prompto surveyed Nyx with a practiced eye and brushed back dark strands of hair, eliciting an annoyed hiss that Prompto waved away with a gentle smile. Fingertips passed, soft, across the shaved side of Nyx’s scalp, but avoided the long red marks there.

“What did you tangle with this time, babe?” Immediately on his arrival home, Prompto had sat Nyx into one of their kitchen chairs to inventory the damage and how severe it was, with his usual mother-hen attitude. Supplies sat ready on the counter, and Prompto’s studied gaze and steady hand belied the fact that he’d woken out of a dead sleep when Nyx got home, despite his attempts to be quiet coming in. Nyx had just given him a look that asked if Prompto had put a ward on the door to wake him when Nyx arrived, and he’d answered with a sideways slice of a smile that said “maybe.” Nyx looked fondly at the spikes of pale blond hair standing up in a maelstrom all over his head; they’d done this middle-of-the-night routine many times before.

Nyx was dressed  in a soft gray regulation t-shirt, his stiff leather jacket folded neatly over another one of the kitchen chairs. He was only a little indignant, and mostly grateful for the company. Still keyed up from the events of the night, he clearly found the gentle touch and crinkled, freckled cheeks that greeted him to be more than welcome, as obedient as he’d been the moment he stepped across the threshhold.

“Group of ghouls, they—ow! they were harassing this old witch and I just—”

“Had to get involved, right?” Prompto couldn’t help grinning a little bit proudly as he dabbed antiseptic onto the scratches. They weren’t deep, and wouldn’t require anything more than basic first aid. He knew his boyfriend could take care of himself, but it still worried him when Nyx patrolled alone. He understood it though. Especially on full moon nights. Didn’t want to get the rest of the Glaive involved, and the fewer people who knew about Nyx’s little affliction, the better.

"Always such a hero." Prompto gave Nyx another soft smile and pressed a kiss to his temple before turning around to wash his hands again and get more supplies. "Was that all? You're—and I mean this in the best way, you know—filthy."

Nyx laughed and rolled his eyes. "An eventful evening all around. Ran into an old acquaintance having some new problems, too."

Blond eyebrows lifted. "Problems, eh? What kind?"

Nyx's face grew stern. "The kind I sent her to Reaper's Alley for. Felt a little bad, because she was obviously new to it and a little confused, but—not safe around others."

Prompto tipped his head to the side, gently wiping dirt out of the various gouges that decorated Nyx's head and neck. "So, group of ghouls, one vampire. Anything else?"

Nyx shook his head, and a slightly guilty blue gaze met Prompto's own. "Not this time. From what I could tell, your glamours held up really well, too. Even with the vampire. She knew something was up, but not exactly what, I don't think."

"Well, that's good." Prompto nodded briskly. "And good to hear. Captain DIY does it again." He flexed a bicep dramatically in the thin tank he wore, drawing a sleepy cackle from Nyx. The dimple was worth it though. He moved around to stand next to Nyx, gently running his fingers over the non-injured side of his head. Nyx leaned into him instinctively, and blinked.

"Wow, what time is it?" He sighed heavily, shoulders sagging a little.

Prompto shrugged. "I dunno. Late. Early." Nyx's arm reached up heavily to wind around Prompto's waist and pull him closer. "Time for bed, anyway. Let's go."

Nyx let Prompto pull him up out of the chair, but shook his head. “I’m covered in - mud, and Spirits know what else. I'm hitting the shower first. You sleep.”

Prompto kept hold of the calloused hand in his grasp and pulled Nyx a little closer, running his thumb over the tattooed line on Nyx’s finger. "Sleep can wait a little bit. I'll come with you to, uh—" The devilish glint in Nyx's eye made him pause. "—Make sure those cuts are all clean?"

Nyx make a skeptical face and shook his head playfully, braids swinging. He dipped his head down close to Prompto's and waited expectantly.

"Um, wash your back?" Prompto laid on the mock innocence thick, opening his eyes wide.

Nyx pretended to ponder. "Closer." He let a breath out, tickling across Prompto's lips and drawing a sheepish look.

"Ogle that sweet ass, probably. You got me."

Laughter bubbled through both sets of lips as they met in a teasing kiss, and the two of them stayed there in the kitchen for a good long while before moving on.

* * *

Noctis paced, sick with worry, at the foot of the gigantic wooden bed. Gladiolus had been there for two days, with no movement. No squeeze of a hand to let Noctis know he was still in there, just the slow rise and fall of his chest. Noctis stopped and let his fingers trace lightly over the remains of the puncture wounds that had been ripped into Gladiolus' neck, hastily healed by a sharp, hurried flash from his own hands. He was—lucky?—in his anxious, wearied loneliness, that the others had been unable to return until later in the week.

Gladio's breath rasped in, then out, too loudly. There was too much space between the two sounds, and Noctis could feel the cusp of the Circle of Shadows brush close. He swallowed hard. Guilt pressed in on him, for being so deceitful with Clarus and Iris. He’d told them that the wounds were major, but that Gladiolus—his son and heir, her only brother—was in no danger. Noctis had lied through his teeth, only able to hide the truth because of their distance from the Crystal. If anything happened, he would never be able to forgive himself. He blinked sleepless eyes that should have been too dry to seep a few tears, but weren’t.

A wavering sigh gusted from Noctis’ lips, and _laevo_ poured forth from his hands, tinkling notes of healing and comfort, a blue-green mist creeping over Gladiolus' massive chest. His breathing evened and quieted, but the faint flicker behind his eyelids continued, and Gladiolus stayed deep in unconsciousness. The tones of his skin were strange and flat, and too pale; the inked lines of his feathered tattoo had even lost their usual shimmer.

Noctis’ phone rang, and he answered it, a little awkwardly since he wasn’t entirely used to how it worked. He knew it was Cor before picking up - the other fae had no need for such devices, but Cor had no access to fae magic and relied on normal human communication methods. Cor was still human, after all, despite the immortality granted him by the Vow Aeterna he’d sworn to Regis after their beloved Aulea had died.

He answered Cor as honestly as he dared. The man had known Noctis since birth, and he knew the worry in his voice would be transparent, as would the screaming desire for help, to call his clan back to do something, to fix what had gone wrong. It wasn’t natural to be alone. Cor was sympathetic but suspicious, and commented on the fact that the link between Noctis and Regis seemed to be weakened as well.

Noctis paced again, and raked a hand through his hair. “It must be—all the stress. I’ll try to focus, to open things up more.” The responsive grunt from Cor was not at all comforting, and Noctis felt things spinning out of control. They couldn’t know what had happened. He was afraid if he let them in, let them see too detailed a picture of what he was seeing, they’d know. The scene in the arrival room played out again in his mind— their battle with the cruel, bulky witch, the tiny, snapping werewolf, and—who was he? His presence had been heavy; his magic discordant and terrible.

And he’d clearly been a vampire, while also emitting an energy that was unmistakably fae, if chillingly dark. Noctis barely dared let the word “vampire” form in his mind. If Gladiolus had been affected, it meant banishment, which meant death. He hoped it was injury, and nothing more, keeping Gladiolus from waking.

Noctis barely noticed what he said to Cor—it was perfunctory and dismissive, he knew that much.  The last of the sunset had lit the ivory marble and gold details of Gladiolus' rich bedchamber hours ago. Noctis hung up with Cor and walked absently to the window, pushing aside the heavy black velvet curtain to peer mournfully at the stars. He knew which one was Aulea, but he was afraid to even look in her direction. He knew it was superstition, but he feared she would see through his facade and tell his father.

Noctis’ forehead pressed gently against the coolness of the windowpane, and he let his shoulders slump in despair. If only Gladio would stir, would grasp his hand in that large, strong grip of his. Anything for Noctis to cling to. Their fates had twined together like vines, like the notes of a magical harmonic, like the tangle of limbs splayed against the cool sheets of Noctis’ bed, and the thought of losing Gladio felt like losing a part of himself.

Noctis walked back over to the bed and smoothed umber locks back from an impassive brow. Gladiolus’ sliced face was concerning as well, and clearly would leave a scar despite Noctis’ best efforts to heal it with magic. Just another reason to feel guilty; if Regis had been here, he certainly could have done better.

Noctis sat heavily in the armchair he’d pulled up next to the bed. Watching for any small movement, any tic, any hitch in Gladiolus' breathing was exhausting; just as draining as it had been for the last two days. Despite himself, Noctis nodded off with his forehead cradled in his hand, elbow propped in the chair.

He didn’t even realize he’d been asleep, never mind for how long, when a low grunt startled him enough that he nearly fell out of the chair.

“Gladio? I’m here.” The words tumbled out, desperate and quick. _Please, please wake up._ Noctis immediately stifled the thought lest it be overheard, but gripped Gladiolus’ hand where it lay outside the blanket.

One deep amber uninjured eye opened blearily and blinked at him. His voice rasped, and Noctis hurried to grab the pitcher and glass next to the table, spilling drops with too-quick movements. Gladiolus drank gratefully, and they sat quietly together as he eased back into wakefulness.

“I’ve done everything I can but”—Noctis took a deep breath—”it’s not enough. I need to ask for help.” He saw the apprehension cross Gladiolus' face and shook his head. “No, not Dad or the others. I have some people in town I can ask.”

A long pause. “Be careful, Noct. Don’t like you going into town alone.”

Noctis let out a short, rueful laugh. Of course Gladio was still worried about him. Of course. “I promise, I’ll find a way. I’ll fix this.”

Gladiolus didn’t meet his eyes, just looked down at their clasped hands, and nodded.

* * *

 Ignis and Crowe relished being alone in the library to set it to rights; everything just seemed to flow better when things were in their proper places. They'd rolled up their sleeves—literally, in Ignis' case—and bustled to tend to tasks they usually didn't have time for. Their sense of satisfaction was interrupted after a couple of hours by the sound of finely-worked heels clacking insistently on the old, polished wood floors.

Crowe looked down from the ladder where she was shelving and met Ignis’ eyes with a certain amount of alarm, but he met her gaze and held up a hand to indicate he’d handle it. Ignis had had some interactions with the Fae Prince here and there, but none as urgent as this seemed to be.

He stepped around smoothly behind the desk, straightening his tunic and adjusting his glasses. “Something I can help you with, Your Highness? Another book of folk chants, perhaps? Or a directory of—”

Black hair wisping and drifting out from his head as if by static, Noctis interrupted him. “No. I need…”  He stepped close to the desk. “What I need, first of all, is absolute secrecy. Swear to me that my request doesn’t leave this room.”

Ignis nodded. “Of course. It’s library policy; we respect all our patrons’ requests for discretion—”

He was interrupted by the unceremonious _thunk_ of heavily jewelled hands on the circulation desk. “ _Swear it._ ”  

Ignis opened his mouth and then closed it again in surprise. They had unruly patrons on occasion, but they were usually not Fae. “I—you have my word.” He pushed up his glasses again, more out of a sense of soothing disruption than real necessity. “Now, what is it you need to find?” He kept his voice low, almost as though he were soothing a skittish animal.

“I need to know how to undo a vampire. Turn someone back.” His skin, usually a pale porcelain shade, flushed a delicate ice-blue in his discontent. He looked down at his fingers, realized he was encroaching fairly deeply into Ignis’ space, stepped back, and pulled his hands back toward his body. “Just tell me. I’ll read whatever I have to, obtain any item I need. If there’s money involved, I’m good for it. Just, I need to do this, and do it quickly.”

Ignis’ gaze returned to Crowe then, and she slowly made her way back down the ladder and moved to step behind him.

Ignis spread his hands, almost in apology. “You ask the impossible, Highness.” Crowe nodded silently behind him. “There is no known way to do what you ask. Many have tried and failed. There are no secrets here that would change that.”

The prince’s teeth gritted, and his fists clenched. A faint hum emanated from him, and the blue sheen to his skin took on an eerie glow. “That can’t be true. There must be a way.”

“He’s right,” Crowe broke in. “One of my degrees is in vampiric biology, and… I’m so sorry.”

It wasn’t clear whether the look of pity in her kind brown eyes or the disappointing answer had prompted it, but Noctis darted forward again and struck his fist against the desk. “No! That can’t be the answer!” The glow around him swelled and throbbed again in a painful pulse, and a faint screeching sound drifted around them. Though the door was closed, a strong breeze swirled the scrolls and books on the shelves nearest to Noctis, rippling the pages and knocking several to the ground. He swallowed and his chest heaved, and a flask popped behind Crowe, dribbling a dark purplish liquid down the shelf. She stared at it with trepidation, and then two more shattered behind Ignis, in a row of neatly organized cut glass bottles shining with teal and blue contents.

Ignis stepped around the desk to get as close as he could to Noctis without touching him. The penalty for unauthorized physical contact with the royal family was well known. Ignis was properly informed by  Noctis' blatant show of power and equally unwilling to test the revenge powers of the massive bodyguard who usually accompanied the Prince everywhere.

But this was his _library_ , and Ignis had his limits.

“ _You will cease this at once._ ” An answering pulse of energy surrounded him. Ignis didn't intend to threaten the Crown Prince, of course. But a shimmering silver symbol of protection asserted itself in the air behind him, and the tattoo on his forearm glowed a bright, verdant green.

Noctis’ eyes widened, and he unclenched his fists and took a breath. The wind calmed, the faint shrieking noises faded to nothing, and the low pulse they’d all been feeling subsided. But his skin still had a faint blue sheen, and his eyes and hair were wild. His chest rose and fell again, and he was clearly fighting for control.

“I’m sorry. I need your help.”

Ignis just looked at him sadly, and Crowe stared down at some old scratches in the desk to avoid plaintive blue eyes.

The silence was broken by another patron bouncing through the door and humming under his breath. Blond spikes bounced rhythmically as he slung a well-laden knapsack onto a wooden table and started sorting through the books inside.

“Hey, Iggy. Crowe. Got a bunch of stuff to bring back, and a bunch more I want. These were great, though. Did you know, you can use a ward to wake you up when your boyfriend comes in at odd hours?” He continued to ramble, but trailed off when Ignis and Crowe just stared at him and didn’t respond.

“Oh, sorry, am I too loud?” He continued in a very loud stage whisper. “Some of the old stuff you got me from the special shelf was really helpful! Oh and I have the lodestone you lent me, too…” He dug through the bag and approached the desk with arms full of books and scrolls and the heavy red stone on top.

Noctis just watched him with a dazed expression, stepping aside slightly as Prompto sidled by fully laden. Prompto looked back at him, smiled vaguely, then took in the silver embroidery on his deep black clothing, the still-blue cast to his skin, the long, flowing cape—and stopped at the intricate skull pattern on Noctis' lapel.

"Oh, oh wow." Prompto looked at Ignis. "Is he—?" He turned back to Noctis, dipping his head apologetically. "Are you—?"

The force of Prompto's swivel set his stack swaying with a dangerous tilt. He looked at the stone set on top with panic, and shuffled his body underneath it to try to balance. For a moment, it looked like he had it, but a few papers in the middle slid at the last minute, and the entire pile came crashing to the floor.

Ignis, who had already cleaned up the teal and blue liquids with a rag and was quietly coaxing the somewhat stubborn purple substance back into a new jar, turned and frowned at the crash, then let out an ostentatiously loud sigh through his nose, pinching the bridge and closing his eyes. He made a move to help Prompto, but Crowe just touched his rolled-up sleeve and shook her head silently. He frowned again and turned back to herd the offending solution back into its designated vessel.

Crowe watched as Noctis bent down to help Prompto pick up the scattered materials. He still looked worried, and shaken, but there was a softness to his demeanor now, as if the crash had startled him out of his fury. He handed Prompto a book, and Prompto rubbed the back of this neck with a nervous laugh.

"It's okay; I can get it. Thanks, your, uh—Highness? Is that right?"

Noctis looked sad for a moment and then reached for another book before looking up. "Just Noctis is fine." He closed the book gently and placed it on the stack.

"Yeah, okay; nice to meet you, Noctis. I'm Prompto. He looked over to see if Noctis would want to shake his hand or not, but Noctis was focused on the book he'd just uncovered, titled _Cloaking and Masking: Techniques in Glamour._  

Dark eyebrows raised, and Noctis' gaze darted back to Prompto. "Are you a witch?"

Prompto shifted his weight and Ignis called over his shoulder in a scolding tone. " _No_."

Prompto let out another awkward chuckle and glanced at Crowe, a little sheepishly and a little gratefully. Crowe just smiled and busied herself helping Ignis clean up.

"No. But also yes? Kind of. It's kinda like—reverse engineering I guess? But once I started getting help it was a lot easier. And I stopped burning my eyebrows off. I'm not a witch, don't have a Mark or anything. Just a regular old human figuring out what I can. It's—I ended up falling for a werewolf, so… "

Ignis was shooting a final raised eyebrow toward the flask on the shelf, but his expression softened at that, and he looked over at Prompto. "How is Nyx, by the way? Were those healing tinctures useful?"

Prompto stepped up to the desk and started laying books and scrolls on it, visibly relaxing as he chatted with his friend. "They were, thanks! And oh yeah, he's, you know, him. Trying to keep the streets safe singlehandedly, as usual."

Ignis tutted but then grinned. "It's good he's got you at home, then."

Noctis broke in again. "Sorry to interrupt, but I have a little bit of a situation. If one of you could manage to do that cloaking thing, maybe it would buy me some time." He mumbled a little, clearly a little embarrassed at having caused a scene and then having to ask for help.  

"Yeah, dude, I totally have that one down. I could help you out, no problem." Prompto slapped Noctis on the back, then cringed. "Oooops, sorry. I know it's against protocol to—"

Noctis smiled, the first true smile he'd had since he'd stepped in the door. "It's fine, Prompto. Any chance you're free, uh, right now? And what's your comfort level with flying?"

* * *

Their steps slid silently on the wet cobblestone of Reaper's Alley as they crept along, looking for a good hunt. Ravus dropped a step behind Aranea and angled his body to look backward, and she gave a wistful smile; it was a familiar move from their days in the service together. Before they’d had to “disappear,” of course. Aranea wondered idly if being undead was a viable defense to desertion, before they ducked quickly into an alleyway to survey some passersby.

A rough group of four werewolves rolled by, and Ravus and Aranea looked at each other, the unspoken thought that they would be a good hunt but probably too much work and potentially risky passing between them. Ravus shrugged silently, and they let the group pass before sidling out again.

"You got anyone looking for you, now that we're…? " Aranea was mostly making conversation, but she was curious, and she did remember Ravus mentioning that he had family.

He nodded, gaze darting up briefly to a suspicious figure on a rooftop before looking over at her, the deep red-violet of his altered iris catching the dim light. "I've been - worried. My sister lives well outside town, and I'd been sending her part of my pay to help. I'll have to figure something out now."

Aranea just nodded. It was easier not to have people. No one to be concerned about, to potentially have to lie to. Simpler. But lonelier, too.

"It's been a couple weeks. You heard from her?"

They sidestepped a knife fight without removing their hands from their pockets, their bodies swiveling past absently.  Ravus shook his head, concern pulling his eyebrows down.

"No. I should check on her. It would be good to see her in person. Make sure she's all right, and doesn't want for anything."

Aranea was quiet again. A family member, who didn't sound like she'd judge, even finding her brother in this state. Sounded nice.

"You want company, I'm happy to join you." She caught an elbow near her face with eerie quickness, and shoved its owner back into his assailant, not breaking her stride.

Ravus darted a quick look at her, then nodded. "It's a bit of a trip, and I'd welcome the company. But…"

Aranea tilted her head, listening.

"...She's a bit—Odd." He finished awkwardly, as if he was unsure how to explain it.

Aranea shrugged. "Fine by me. Fucking everything's odd these days."

As if to prove her right, a massive werewolf growled low at them from a darkened doorway. She stopped, even with him, and waited, a faint smirk teasing around the corner of her mouth.

The werewolf waited a beat, then threw himself at Aranea, snapping and snarling. She crouched, then grabbed him in a firm grip and slammed him against the brick wall to her left. She heard several things snap, and she moved in close to hustle him down the next alleyway. No sense in drawing things out. They closed on the werewolf together.

"Fucking vamps. I'll kill you both."

Another thin shaft of light from an upper window glinted off one of Ravus' fangs as his lips pulled back in a mirthless grin.

"You can try."

The sounds of their battle mingled with the rest of the unsavory cacophony of Reaper's Alley, and the hunt drew to a satisfying close.

* * *

As it happened, Prompto's shift at work had been about to begin, and he hadn’t been able to come straight back to the Citadel with Noctis after all. They’d traded cell phone numbers, though (making Noctis temporarily and grudgingly grateful for the device, despite his complaints to Cor), and Prompto had promised to message as soon as he got off work.

Noctis drifted up slowly toward home, remembering their frenzied dash along the same path just a couple of days ago.He thought about what he might find on his return home. He hoped Gladiolus was still awake, and hadn't slipped back under the surface of unconsciousness again. That had been terrifying, and Noctis worried at a fingernail with his teeth. Distracted,  he landed and strode through familiar hallways.

One of the Citadel staff approached him, wringing her hands and talking about a missing deer from the surrounding elevated woodlands. Noctis barely heard her as he made all the familiar turns almost without thinking; poachers weren’t common, but they certainly weren’t unheard of either. Rosalie’s concern about the—messiness? left behind was odd, but he waved her off with a promise to talk about it later.

Noctis pushed through the door to Gladiolus' room full of tentative hope. The sun glinted through open windows, and the breeze outside smelled of springtime. A shaft of light fell on a freshly-made bed, and Gladiolus was nowhere to be found. Noctis' head darted around to find Rosalie, but she'd scampered off when he'd dismissed her.

Noctis' chest stung with equal parts buoyancy and doom. He could search the Citadel for Gladiolus, sure, and the staff would know where he was if he was here. But the bronze-and-amber embroidered coverlet was pulled a little too tightly. Military corners, Noctis noticed. And the book he'd left at Gladiolus' side, the one Noctis had been reading to him in the hope he could hear it, was missing as well.

Trepidation mounting, Noctis strode to Gladiolus' closet, pulling back more richly embroidered fabric, and his heart sank.

Gladio's traveling cloak was gone, and Noctis gave in to tears.


End file.
